"BOBS."
■> _ There's a little red-faeed man, Which is Bobs, Rides the tallest 'orsc 'e can, Our Bobs. Tf it bucks or kicks or rears 'K can sit for twenty years With a smile round both 'is ears, Can't yer, Bobs? Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur, Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! 'E'b our pukka Kandahader, Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs. 'R's the Book of "Aggy Chel," 'E's the man that done so well. An' we'll follow 'im to 'el— Won't we, Bobs? (Note—"Aggy Chel," go ahead.) If a limber's slipped a trace, 'Ook on Bobs; Tf a marker's lost Ms place, Dress by Bobs; For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, An' a bugle in 'is throat, An' you'will not play the goat Under, Bobs. 'E's a little down on drink, Chaplain Bobs, But it keeps us out 'er clink, Don't it, Bobs?
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TDN19141119.2.37
Bibliographic details
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Taranaki Daily News, Volume LVII, Issue 149, 19 November 1914, Page 7
Word count
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140"BOBS." Taranaki Daily News, Volume LVII, Issue 149, 19 November 1914, Page 7
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